


try and see my heart

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Pining, boys being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think I like Michael,” he blurts out before groaning and dropping his face into his hand, digging his palms into his eyes. “Shit.”</p><p>He can’t believe he said that out loud. Oh god, someone knows now.</p><p>There’s a stunned silence.</p><p>Then, “As in, you have a crush on Michael?”</p><p>Luke would laugh at the dumbfounded tone in Casey’s voice if he wasn’t busy trying to press everything swarming in his head back to the little box in the back of his head. With his hands. Through his eye sockets.</p><p>He makes a vaguely affirmative sound and Casey whistles through his teeth.</p><p>“Damn.”</p><p>At that, Luke snorts. “Yeah.”</p><p>“You have a crush on Michael? Like, you’re sure? Michael? Michael Clifford? Your best friend, that Michael—”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Luke groans, cheeks heating, “Yes, for Christ’s sake. That Michael.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>Or, Luke doesn't really realise that he likes Michael till it's probably too late and he makes a few choices that are regrettable at best. Casey is apparently the go-to when you want to avoid your band and Michael is having none of Luke's shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	try and see my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another one I've had in the works for a while. I'm not entirely sure how well this one is going to go down haha XD Muke have been particularly adorable these days and the inspiration is flowing. So! I hope you guys like it :D 
> 
> Enjoy!

If Luke had more shame, he would probably be mortified.

But as it happens, after spending four years in a band with _zero_ personal boundaries of any kind, his shame had sighed in defeat and left on early retirement without so much as a by-your-leave.

It’s kind of hard to worry about seeing each other’s dicks when some days there is no option other thanshowering together in the fifteen minutes before bus call. Luke has long gotten over freaking out about seeing someone’s dick dangling in front of his face. And, admittedly, that is a _probable_ source of concern for most people.

So, Luke has no shame. Which is why he’s lounging around in the smallest—and by unfortunate extension, the _tightest—_ pair of boxers he owns in the Hey Violet dressing room on a dare.

Okay so he’s not the happiest about his body but screw his insecurities, he’s not going to lose to Calum and be stuck with the last shower in the mornings for the next month and have no hot water because there barely ever is after three extremely tall people with lots of hair have blearily stood under the spray for twenty minutes each. Sometimes he hates the fact that this band brings out his competitive side.

Anyway. Back to the point. He’s practically naked and waiting for their opening act to show up so he can do what he came to do and leave.

Which is to say, nothing. He has to sit here until the band walks in, say hi and walk out like a model. Or so Michael said. But Luke still maintains, from his argument against Calum’s insane logic, that just because Michael supposedly won the first round, it shouldn’t make him the judge.

Ashton had long opted out of their games of dare after a particularly horrifying day when he had been forced to streak naked through catering in order to maintain his dignity. Although Luke isn’t entirely sure how much dignity he could have preserved after more than half of their tour crew have seen his dick.

He sighs and is about to text someone, _anyone,_ to see where their goddamn opening act is when a horrified shriek makes him look up.

Nia is stopped short in the doorway, the other three walking into her back as she stands and stares with her jaw hanging open.

“Luke, what the hell?” She asks and then immediately holds up a hand, face twisting into regret. “Actually, never mind. I really _don’t_ want to know.”

Luke just grins and gets to his feet. “Well, it’s been a blast, but things to do, people to see. Catch you guys at sound check.”

He struts out past four bemused faces, cocks his hip and leaves with a two-fingered salute to Casey and a wink to the room at large.

It’s a testament to the will and patience of their tour crew that no one bats an eyelid as he wanders down the hallway in his boxers past catering and their tour manager. He grins sheepishly when their guitar tech raises a single eyebrow in amusement as he passes by him.

“Alright, I did it and I think I scarred them all for life,” Luke announces as he bursts into their dressing room.

Michael looks up from his phone and blinks slowly up and down at the length of his bare body.

“What? Wait. Hold on, wait… _Why_ are you naked?”

Luke rolls his eyes, reaching for a shirt and jeans. “ _Hey Violet?_ The thing you asked me to do?”

Michael stares at him blankly for a second and then snaps his fingers, a grin flashing onto his face. “ _Oh!_ Sick. I’m so proud. Calum loses.”

Luke cheers and flops onto the couch, settling with his head in Michael’s lap and ignores the usual grumblings because Michael’s words are, as always, contradictory to his actions. His fingers sink into Luke’s hair, scratching along his scalp and Luke sighs happily, closing his eyes and leaning up into the touch.

“You are an utter embarrassment to the values that this band was built on.”

Luke cracks open an eye to level a flat look at Calum as he walks into the room. “And you have to stick to cold showers for a month and I don’t. So, who’s really the loser here?”

Calum gapes. “You actually…”

“I think I scarred Nia for life.”

“I hate you.”

He just grins and closes his eyes again.

“No, not _you_ ,” Calum grouches and there’s a tell-tale sploofing noise, leather deflating under his weight as he flops into an armchair, “Michael.”

Luke feels Michael’s amused exhale on his forehead as his fingers tighten in his hair.

“I did tell you that he’d do it, bro, you didn’t listen.”

He hides a smile behind his hand at the dry tone.

Calum snorts but says nothing.  

“What’s shakin’, bacon?” Ashton waltzes in as he’s pushing his headphones down around his neck. He takes one look at the three of them and sighs. “Does this mean I have to take Calum and bribe him with cookie dough ice cream to keep him from doing something crazy like lacing Luke’s shampoo with green hair dye?”

Luke can’t hold back a smirk in Calum’s direction as he scowls up at the eldest.

“Michael, you owe me for the ice cream,” Ashton says.

“I didn’t do _anything!”_ Michael complains.

“You break it, you buy it. Them’s the rules.”

Michael makes a face and tips his head back on to the couch, closing his eyes. “Fine. There’s a five dollar note in the pocket of my bag.”

Luke laughs, tipping his head back against Michael’s thigh to look up at him. “Wow, five whole dollars. Generous.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

“Yeah, shut up, Luke.”

“Shut up, Cal,” Michael retorts, eyes still closed and Luke grins at Calum who rolls his eyes and mimes a whip.

 

*

 

The four of them are sprawled in various positions around Calum’s hotel room, lazy and content after a day off that involved them doing absolutely nothing.

Michael is sitting up with his back against the headboard of the bed, strumming one of their old acoustic guitars softly, random pieces of songs spilling out as he drops his head back and closes his eyes. Luke watches, fascinated by Michael’s fingers as they slide up and down the fret board, picking at the strings. It’s strangely enthralling.

The sun is hanging low on the horizon, a grapy purple dusk over the gleaming tips of buildings in Glasgow. The last rays filter through the blinds, slanting across the bed in stripes of gold.

He’s lying on his back across the bottom of the bed, feet hanging off the edge, and warmth curls in his stomach as his eyes stay on Michael’s peaceful figure. It’s a nice feeling, makes him feel proud and inexplicably happy that they’d gone out and managed to get a chance to live the life they had wanted for so long. That Michael could be the person he wants to be and sing every night to thousands of people. He knows, without a whisper of a doubt, that Michael belongs no where else but on the stage with a guitar in his hands.

Luke glances up from Michael’s hands at the thought, trailing up towards his face and smiles at the barely-there smile that sits quietly on his lips.

Calum snores, a loud breathy inhale, from where he’s curled into Ashton’s side on the other side of the bed and Luke startles for a second, eyes darting to the two sleeping boys before settling back on Michael.

There’s something impatient under his skin, an itch that he can’t seem to scratch despite the languid ease he feels and it dulls a little when Michael raises his head from the headboard and looks at him with brilliant grey-green eyes and a small quirk of his bitten red lips.

A hot flush burns in Luke’s ears as he tears his eyes away from Michael’s mouth and buries it underneath a small grin at his best friend.

“Tired?” Michael asks.

“Not as much as them,” Luke murmurs softly, jerking his chin towards their snuggling, snoring friends.

The red-head chuckles and his fingers brush across the strings through a key change and Luke recognises a watered down version of Champagne Supernova.

He mind flashes back to the galaxy hair days of 2012 and he grins to himself because the dark purple mix had been a gorgeous contrast with Michael’s pale skin. But, Michael looks hotter in red.

Luke freezes as the thought tumbles around in his head, his eyes still frozen on Michael’s hair. He feels like he’s on fire suddenly, sweating in his tank and shorts with the aircon humming at a chilly twenty degrees. What the hell is going on?

A pillow whacks him in the face.

“What the fuck?” He blurts out on principle, batting the offending object aside and frowning at a laughing Michael.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

Luke flounders.

“You need sleep just as much as these two, my friend,” Michael snorts and leans down to rest the guitar against the bedside table before patting the narrow space between him and Ashton. “C’mon.”

Because Luke has no self-control and to be fair he _is_ tired, he crawls into the space as Michael slides down the bed, squishing himself into Luke’s side and rests his head on his shoulder. He’s a warm, solid presence pressed up along his body and Luke feels a little like he’s drowning as his brain swims, _Michael looks hotter in red_ flashing in neon lights somewhere behind his closed eyelids.

“It’s so cold in this room, how the fuck are you so warm?”

“What?” Luke’s voice comes out distracted and hoarse but Michael doesn’t seem to notice as he yawns.

“You’re warm. Room’s cold. How?”

He fights a smile at the blunt rephrase because it’s so _Michael._ “I run hot.”

 _And…_ those words make no sense but Michael huffs an amused laugh, breath warm against Luke’s shoulder.

“Idiot,” is muffled against his throat when Michael shuffles closer, clinging to him like a koala.

Luke forces out a soft laugh, his fingers squeezing Michael’s hip.

“You’re both idiots,” comes from behind Luke, ~~saving~~ interrupting him as he struggles to say something. Ashton sighs grumpily. “Shut the fuck up and go the fuck to sleep or get the fuck out.”

Michael snorts and Luke feels actual vibrations on his neck. He shudders.

“Alright, Grumpy,” Luke manages to say instead, forcing his voice steady and teasing, “’Night.”

Ashton just harrumphs and falls silent.

“’Night, Luke.” Michael mutters.

And Luke can only pat the warm skin of Michael’s side and breathe slowly to stop his panicking heart.

 

*

 

So, admittedly, more-than-friendly thoughts about a certain red-haired boy aren’t exactly an uncommon occurrence in Luke’s brain but he’d been running from them—incidentally getting faster and reaching cosmic velocities—for so long that even thinking about stopping and actually _considering_ the possibilities that they held were so far out of his realm of thought that they may as well be dust floating through space.

But, such occurrences are starting to increase and Luke really isn’t in any sort of stable mental space to deal with the outcome. And because he’s an eighteen year old boy with the emotional range of a teaspoon—okay so what if he’s been watching too much Harry Potter lately—he does the next thing up on the list of worst things ever.

He starts the avoidance game.

He hangs out with Casey every spare moment he has, when he isn’t writing or sleeping or playing a show.

On one hand, Luke knows that Casey doesn’t mind because they have similar tastes in music and he teases Luke mercilessly for sucking at Fifa, but on the other hand, he knows Casey (and every other person) is curious to know _why_ Luke isn’t hanging out with his own band.

He isn’t ready to admit anything, to Casey, to his friends and least of all, to himself.

Ashton and Calum are rightfully confused when Luke takes to disappearing and not inviting them and Michael just stares at him as he slips out. He justifies it. He _can_ justify it, he stresses, he _can._ It’s easier, to avoid them all instead of just Michael, to avoid the questions about why he’s avoiding just Michael. It’s easier to run away from them all. It’s just easy. (He ignores all the voices that tell him that the easy choice is never the best choice.)

Today, is one of those days. He’s in the Hey Violet bus, playing Fifa with Casey and resolutely not thinking about the three hurt faces he’d left behind as he scrambled out of their bus in the morning.

It’s past two in the afternoon when Casey chucks the controller onto the couch at long last with a sigh. Luke raises an eyebrow.

“Giving up already?”

“Why are you avoiding them?”

The question catches him off guard and he splutters out something unconvincing.

“Luke,” Casey says firmly, “What happened, man? Did you guys fight? Do we need to stage an intervention?”

He swallows and then laughs it off. “Nah, no fights.”

“Then why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding!” It’s too defensive, even to his own ears.

“C’mon, man. It’s okay.”

Luke twitches, his fingers tightening around the controller but he can’t say anything but whatever is on his face gives him away.

Casey’s voice is soft when he speaks. “It’s been two and a half weeks, Hemmo, and I haven’t asked. I think it’s time to talk about whatever this is.”

His throat aches as something lodges in it and he can’t, he can’t _breathe,_ because something snaps in the back of his mind and everything comes rushing out of where he’s buried it for months now because shit, it has been, hasn’t it? It’s been months, god forbid, _years_ since he’d started ignoring this messy tangle of feelings in his chest.

“I think I like Michael,” he blurts out before groaning and dropping his face into his hand, digging his palms into his eyes. “ _Shit.”_

He can’t believe he said that out loud. Oh god, someone _knows_ now.

There’s a stunned silence.

Then, “As in, you have a _crush_ on Michael?”

Luke would laugh at the dumbfounded tone in Casey’s voice if he wasn’t busy trying to press everything swarming in his head back to the little box in the back of his head. With his hands. Through his eye sockets.

He makes a vaguely affirmative sound and Casey whistles through his teeth.

“Damn.”

At that, Luke snorts. “Yeah.”

“You have a crush on _Michael?_ Like, you’re sure? Michael? Michael Clifford? Your best friend, _that_ Michael—”

“Oh my god,” Luke groans, cheeks heating, “ _Yes,_ for Christ’s sake. _That_ Michael.”

“You are so cute,” Casey coos, poking his cheek, “Aw, you’re _blushing._ Jesus, bro, how long has this been going on?”

Luke glances up and blushes further when he catches Casey’s laughing brown eyes. “Uh…a while?”

An eyebrows flicks up at that. “A while.”

He gives him a flat look. “Shut up.”

“So, now that you’ve apparently managed to admit to yourself that you do have a probably-more-than-a-crush on Mike, are you gonna tell the others?”

Luke blanches, turning wide, terrified eyes on Casey as horror burns like poison through his body.

Casey sighs. “Look, man, they think you’re angry at them and they don’t know why. They’re hurt and to be fair, a little angry. It might help if—”

“It could end the band!” Luke hisses. He flops against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling of the bus. “I can’t—it could destroy everything.”

“It’s just Michael, Luke. You know him and he knows you. He’s not going to hate you for this.” Casey pauses for a second before grinning. “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’d be the exact opposite.”

“What?” Luke asks, tipping his head to the side to look at the guitarist.

Casey shakes his head but the grin stays in place and Luke narrows his eyes at the knowing glint in his eyes. “Nah. Look, just talk to Ashton and Calum at least. They’re not going to hate you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Jesus, why the fuck are you so stubborn?”

“Youngest of three,” Luke says cheerfully, or as cheerfully as he can a this point. “You gotta learn fast.”

Casey rolls his eyes.

“Just try though, okay?”

Luke acquiesces just to make the conversation stop. There is _no_ way he’s talking to Ashton _or_ Calum, least of all to both of them at the same time.

 

*

 

That plan falls through in Washington when Ashton and Calum corner him on his way to Casey’s room at the hotel.

Literally.

He’s backed into a corner in the elevator as Ashton and Calum jump through just before the doors close. Ashton’s fist smashes into the emergency stop button. Luke gapes at the two of them, his heart hammering in his chest. They stare at each other for few tense seconds before Calum sighs.

“Luke, please just, c’mon, _talk_ to us.”

Guilt pounds to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Ashton just watches him with genuine concern and masked hurt in his clear hazel eyes and Luke wants to choke himself with a burning rope for making him look like that. Shame burns in his gut and he drops his head into his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands down his face and lets out a heavy sigh, “I’m really sorry I’ve been avoiding you guys.”

Ashton steps forward then, reaching out to brush a hand over Luke’s head. “Maybe now is a good time to tell us why.”

He glances over from Ashton to Calum, catching his eyes. “Alright, I—I can, I might as well, but—I need,” he fumbles, dropping his gaze to his shoes, throat thick. His voice goes breathy and hoarse. “Please don’t hate me.”

There are two sets of arms around him before the words are fully out of his mouth and tears ache behind his eyes.

Fuck, he didn’t deserve this with the way he’s been treating them.

But he takes the comfort they’re offering, pressing his face into Ashton’s shoulder and presses a hand to Calum’s waist, taking a deep, ragged breath.

“I like Michael.”

The words ring around the three of them, loud and obvious even though he whispers them into Ashton’s collarbone.

“Oh my god.”

Luke squeezes his eyes shut with a wince as the exclamation echoes in the elevator.

 _“Oh my god,”_ Calum repeats Ashton’s words, the words breathed out over Luke’s head, ruffling his hair.

“I’m sorry—”

“Luke, you idiot,” Ashton groans, pressing his cheek to Luke’s temple, “You complete _doorknob.”_

Calum’s shaking against him and Luke is so completely confused until he hears the giggles and then he’s even more confused.

He pulls back from the hug, blinking wide eyes at them.

Ashton lets him go, rubbing the bridge of his nose and looks at Luke with a monumentally _done_ expression. “Luke—”

Calum’s guffawing laughter cuts him off and Luke watches in amazement as he doubles over, leaning against the metal wall _._ “I can’t,” he gasps, “I actually can’t even deal.”

“What,” Luke splutters, “ _What?”_

Ashton slaps Calum’s arm, shushing him to no avail but turns back to Luke nonetheless. He shakes his head, a honest grin pulling up his cheeks and a gleam in his eyes.

“We’ve known that for ages,” He says plainly, “Luke, the entire world knows that.”

“ _What?”_ Luke squeaks because he has nothing else to say.

They _what?_ How did they—he didn’t—

“How the hell did you know? _I didn’t know till a while ago!”_ He exclaims, flailing, “I’ve been terrified of telling you for weeks and you’ve knownfor _ages?!”_

 

“You look at him sometimes,” Ashton says, “and like, not to be extremely cliché, but it’s like you think he hung the stars and made galaxies for you or something, like, don’t get me wrong it’s adorable as hell but so, _so_ telling.”

A hot flush burns down the back of Luke’s neck.

“Yeah,” Calum adds and then fond grin on his face is almost exasperated, “It’s been obvious for a while.”

“Are you telling me Casey _knew_ when I told him?” Luke asks, blinking and rubbing away the heat in his cheeks, “Oh _fuck_ him.”

Calum’s face is pained as he hiccups his way through another spell of hysterical giggles. Even Ashton’s grinning wide, amused and unrepentant.

“So, now that piece of unsurprising information is out of the way,” Calum throws an arm over Luke’s shoulders, “Will you please stop avoiding us?”

He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“Alright, _fine_ , goddammit, stop with the eyes,” Luke relents with a sigh, “But if you try and make me talk to Michael about this, I will not hesitate to run you both over with our bus.”

 

*

 

Things get both better and worse after that.

Casey shakes his head at him every time they walk past each other but quietly asks him how he’s doing because Luke’s stopped running to him since the talk with Ashton and Calum. Casey is also a little smug about his acting skills and Luke promises him that he’ll get revenge for that any day now.

Michael though, Michael is a whole other problem that Luke has yet to tackle.

It’s been a few says since the elevator incident and not one word has been exchanged between Luke and Michael. He knows that it’s obvious that he’s made up with Ashton and Calum. He knows that, however much this whole love thing sucks, he should apologise to Michael. He also knows that he’s only made things worse by openly interacting with everyone else but Michael.

Luke knows a lot of things. But it doesn’t mean he’s actually doing anything about it.

Every time he talks himself into heading to Michael’s room, he’s never there or the shower’s running and Luke chickens out. Every time he tries to say something to Michael, his throat closes up and he just turns around and walks away.

What’s worse is that he knows that he deserves every bit of vindictive revenge that Michael throws his way. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

Luke rounds the corner in the hotel hallway and stops short, his heart climbing to his throat at the sight of Michael throwing his head back and laughing at something Calum had said. His nails dig into his palms.

And _God._ He’s beautiful. The long pale length of his neck and the bright splash of his red hair and the laugh lines around his scrunched up eyes and the white flash of his teeth against dark pink lips. Luke could go on, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches, the familiarity of Michael’s hunching shoulders and loud laugh making longing ache in his stomach.

He tries to back away unnoticed. It doesn’t go so well when he hits the wall with his shoulder and lets out a groan.

Michael catches sight of him and it’s like a barricade flips up as his laugh shuts down and the smile vanishes. The corridor rings with the sudden silence and Luke wonders if its possible to go deaf from it.

They stare at each other.

Luke tries to read something from Michael, anything, even a twitch, but his expression is as vacant as ever. Calum says something and Luke’s hopes leap up because _emotion_ even though the lightning strike of anger in Michael’s eyes is aimed directly at him.

Luke stumbles forward without warning, almost like an invisible hand had shoved him.

Michael takes two steps backward, spins on his heel and storms away.

He closes his eyes, steadying his breathing and tries to ignore the injured lurch of his heart because _fuck,_ he deserves it all.

“You know he’s just hurt, right?”

Luke glances up at Calum as he approaches with a troubled expression, frowning as he looks towards the direction of Michael’s exit.

“I just wish I knew how to fix it,” Luke says quietly, following his gaze.

Calum squeezes his shoulder. “Maybe an actual explanation would be a start.”

“Oh yeah, because he’s totally letting me get close enough to actually _talk_ to him.” He sends a dry look in Calum’s direction.

“So?” Calum chuckles. “Bro, this is Michael, you _know_ he can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. But you’re forgetting that you’re Luke Hemmings and also his best fucking friend, you _noodle._ Ask for a copy of his key card, because let’s be honest, every damn person on this tour wants you two to get your shit together, and go and corner him in his room. Oh and for the record, I think kissing him is probably the best way to go.”

Luke starts smiling somewhere around the halfway point of Calum’s speech and he’s grinning by the end, unable to help himself.

“You reckon?”

Calum just rolls his eyes and shoves him down the hall.

 

*

 

Michael is in the shower when Luke mumbles a rushed thank you to Calum for opening the door and carefully creeps into the room, closing the door and wincing as the hinges creak, hoping that the roar of the water is enough to drown it out. He tiptoes past the bathroom door.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself and he end up sitting on the bed, fidgeting with his fingers and trying to let the panic settle before the shower inevitably stops and Michael walks out. Luke wonders what Michael thinks about this whole situation, what conclusions he’s come to and what he thinks about Luke now.

The grip on his fingers stiffen when the water cuts off and he breathes, in and out, as the lock turns and the door swings open. Luke doesn’t have to look up to know that Michael is standing and staring at him but he forces himself to lift his eyes from the carpet and look at the boy.

“What the fuck,” is the first thing Michael spits out, clutching the towel around his waist as a glare furrows his eyebrows.

Luke almost smiles. Admittedly, the whole completely-naked-under-the-towel thing doesn’t help the explanation he’s about to give but, well, he’ll just have to deal without getting distracted by Michael’s collarbones and the creamy expanse of his chest. (He’s resolutely ignoring that Michael’s dick is under that towel, okay, just, _no.)_

“Hey,” he says quietly, “Can we talk?”

The older boy snorts with a roll of his eyes as he moves to his open suitcase. “You’ve been fine without talking to me for weeks, dunno what changed for you to come crawling back.”

It stings, the hooks and barbs that spring out from those words, and Luke swallows a wince. “Okay. I deserved that.” He exhales. “I owe you an explanation, so…come sit down?”

Michael turns around after pulling on basketball shorts, green eyes unreadable. “Oh yeah? It better be good, Hemmings.”

He doesn’t sit down. He stands and crosses his arms, waiting.

“Alright.” Luke mutters. His heart crashes like thunder against his rib cage as he avoids Michael’s eyes, concentrating on the push and pull of his fingers against each other. “Um. I’m sorry, for avoiding you,” he starts quietly, “It wasn’t—it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything. Or maybe you did,” he chuckles, humourless and helpless, “but, I shouldn’t have run away.”

“You suck balls at explaining shit,” Michael states, voice dry.

A ghost of a smile fades across Luke’s mouth. “Nah,” he murmurs, “it’s just to you that I can’t explain shit.”

“For fuck’s sake, just pretend I’m Ashton or something, hurry the fuck up, I want to sle—”

“I like you,” Luke blurts out suddenly and the room plunges into silence as Michael’s words come to an abrupt halt. He cringes, shoulders curling in towards his ears, feeling the flood of heat to his cheeks and down his neck.

The rabbiting rhythm of his heart pounds in in his ears and his grip tightens on his fingers, pressing in hard and white as he waits for Michael to say something.

“I, uh.”

Luke almost flinches when Michael clears his throat.

“Luke,” it’s whispered and disbelieving when his name falls from Michael’s lips, “Look at me.”

He swallows, throat thick, and turns to his side to look up at the redhead, blushing hard with he’s met with gleaming green eyes and a small grin. He coughs. “Yeah?”

“You’re a prick,” Michael states blankly, “An absolute fucking prick.”

Luke startles. “What?”

“Oh my god, you _dick,”_ incredulous laughter spills out of Michael, “You ran away because you have _feelings_ for me? Really?”

Honestly, now he’s just getting offended. “ _What?_ You think I could’ve just come up and been like _hey Michael, I kinda have the biggest fucking crush on you, please don’t hate me?”_

He gets a pillow in the face.

 _“Yes.”_ Michael exclaims, not looking even remotely sorry as Luke pick the pillow up and puts on the bed beside him. He takes a few steps forward, arms swinging down to his sides. “You could’ve told me, Luke. I’ve known you for years, I wasn’t going to hate you all of a sudden!”

“Again,” Luke mutters under his breath and bites his lip ring when Michael raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t want you to hate me again,” he says with a slight shrug.

The other boy comes to sit beside him, nudging their shoulders together. “Would’ve been easier if you just told me.”

Luke looks down to where their thighs are pressed together, the heat of Michael’s shower warm skin bleeding through his jeans. “I guess I—”

“I mean,” Michael continues, ducking his head, “It would’ve been a bit hypocritical of me to hate you.”

There’s a splotchy red flush high in his cheeks and his ears are turning dark pink and Luke watches in something like awed silence as Michael shuffles and bites at his lip, glancing at Luke out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Luke replies on instinct, tearing his eyes away from Michael’s mouth.

“I _said_ ,” Michael says, voice simultaneously quiet and impatient like Luke’s taking too long to understand what he’s trying to say, “that I have feelings for you too.”

He chokes as he breathes in, the air tangling in his vocal chords and he coughs, wiping his eyes. “What?” He asks weakly, gaping at Michael. “You what?”

“Oh my god,” the redhead mumbles, rolling his eyes, “okay, you know what, just—” He cuts himself off, sits up and pulls Luke into a kiss.

Luke stops breathing, eyelids falling shut as the warm press of Michael’s lips shudders down his spine to his toes. His hands grasp at air. He pulls away, “Micha—”

Michael makes an aggravated sound, gripping Luke around the back of the neck and angling his head into the kiss, licking his bottom lip and pushing his tongue into his mouth. Luke makes a sound high in his throat, blood rushing past his ears, when Michael licks along the line of his teeth and pushes him down onto the bed at the same time.

It’s like breathing after being underwater, after thinking about this for so long, Luke can’t actually believe it’s happening.

He catches Michael around the waist as they fall back onto the bed together, settling him between his legs and Luke lets their lips part to gasp in a breath of air before catching Michael’s open mouth and sucking on his tongue, revelling in the choked whine that is pressed into his mouth when he bites his lip.

This time, it’s Michael who pulls away and his eyes are all pupil, lips blood red and swollen from Luke’s teeth. “Cross that off my bucket list,” he pants, rubbing at Luke’s scalp with the fingers tangled in his hair.

“What?” Luke groans at the pressure, “ _Jesus_ , Mikey.”

Michael presses their foreheads together. “Kissing you,” he mumbles, pressing his mouth under his eye, “Pretty high on my bucket list.”

“Oh?” He grins, arching his neck as he presses his mouth along Michael’s jaw, sucking hard at his Adam’s apple. “Anything else I should know?” He yelps when Michael ducks down and bites into his neck right over his pulse, the sound melting into a moan as his bones liquefy into fire.

“Many things,” Michael murmurs into his ear, “involving me,” he noses the shell of his ear, “and your dick.” Luke is putty in his hands when Michael sucks on his earlobe and kisses the hinge of his jaw.

The noise that rips out of his throat is so filthy but Luke has no chance to feel ashamed when Michael delves into his mouth at the same time as he grinds down.

“ _Shit,”_ Luke growls, pressing his hand into the small of Michael’s back, “ _Fuck.”_

Michael groans and it resonates through Luke’s chest, his voice throaty as he pants against his cheek, “Shut up, Luke.” His fingers are playing with the button on Luke’s jeans and Luke shudders as his hand grazes the bulge that’s prominent in his pants.

 _“Fuck,”_ he swears.

There’s raspy chuckle in his ear and Michael angles his hips so that Luke feels his dick, hot and hard through his shorts, against his thigh. “Yeah?”

Luke pulls Michael up and kisses him, slow and deep, tangling his fingers in the waistband of his shorts. He’s pretty sure he could get off like this.

“ _Oh my GOD!”_

Michael pulls away with a slick sound, tucking his face in Luke’s neck and groaning. Luke can feel the heavy force of the blush that floods his face and he hides behind Michael’s shoulder. Michael growls. “Calum, get the fuck out.”

“ _What are you doing?”_ Calum hisses, swatting at Luke’s feet. He kicks at him. “Fuck you, I thought you had killed each other.” He’s glaring when Luke peeks at him but he can see the glimmer in his eyes.

“No you didn’t,” Ashton strolls through the door, tapping away at his phone, “Acting is not your forte.” He glances up, a grin bearing his teeth when he sees the two of them, “Oh thank god, finally.”

Michael sighs heavily, making him shiver as the warm breath washes over the hickey on his neck and rolls off him to look at their best friends. “Do you need something?”

Calum leans on Ashton’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Ash, _do_ we need something?”

“Fuck off,” Luke mutters, rubbing his cheeks, “Cockblocks.”

“ _Language,_ Lucas,” Ashton says with a cheeky wink, “Liz would be horrified.”

“Aaaannddddd the mood is dead,” Michael flops onto the bed in a dramatic expression of a sigh, “Thanks, Ashton.”

“Anytime, dear.”

Luke turns, squishing his face into Michael’s chest. “I hate this band.”

“Did you really want to have sex before going on a date, though?” Calum sits on the edge of the bed, ticking Luke’s feet and cursing when Luke manages to catch him on the wrist with a swift kick, “I mean, isn’t that against the rules of dating?”

Michael pulls a pillow from next to Luke and chucks it at his best friend’s head. “We know each other inside out, you fuck, don’t need a date.”

“Not really,” Luke feels a grin pulling at his mouth and he pulls back to catch Michael’s bright questioning eyes and feels decidedly gleeful when he speaks, “Inside out would imply that we fucked. Which we didn’t.”

Ashton’s groaning into his hands while Calum reaches across to fist bump Luke.

“Shut up, oh my god,” Michael snorts but his hand finds Luke’s, tangling their fingers together and Luke grins, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of his neck.

“I’m starting to realise you don’t want me to shut up,” he murmurs, squeezing Michael’s fingers.

Calum flops onto the bed beside Ashton, laughing as he bounces and ends up squished into his side.

Michael digs his fingers into Luke’s side and noses his ear with a grin as he squirms. “Shut up, Luke.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that is that XD If you liked it, pleeaaasseeee comment your thoughts, or comment even if you didn't like it ;) constructive criticism goes a long way! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> My tumblr is aneverendingreplay ^_^ Come say hi!


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